Keeping Her Alive
by the anonymous benefactor
Summary: They're having a hard time keeping Effie alive. She's a shell of what she was and Coin doesn't want her alive. Drabble that doesn't quite go anywhere.


"She hasn't done anything!" Haymitch was exasperated at how thick and fast the argument was coming from Coin. He needed a stiff drink of something and he needed it to be something strong. Sobriety was doing nothing for Haymitch, least of all was it helping him think or get around Coin's stubbornness on the subject. They'd been at it for hours now, back and forth with the arguing. He would say she'd done nothing, Coin would say she could've done everything to help the Capitol and they just didn't know. It was pathetic how much this rotten woman wanted her way. Coin had things planned to a dot and Haymitch was throwing a spanner in the works.

"Haymitch is right, she is a citizen. One in need of help now, we can give that to her," Plutarch chipped in. Haymitch was thankful, for once, to have that man around. Alone, Haymitch would never have kept the argument alive so long. Plutarch was fighting just as hard to keep Effie Trinket alive as Haymitch was. They were both right, why didn't Coin just understand? Effie was a spectator to all this, one who got swept up into something she had no clue about. Haymitch hadn't wanted it for her; he hadn't thought about what would happen to a Citizen of the Capitol. Stupid fucking Haymitch not thinking about anyone but himself. She'd looked terrible when they found her. A shell of the Effie Trinket he'd once known; a slip of thing compared to the woman he saw last. Under fed and mentally broken. Physically scarred in ways he had never dreamed would happen to clueless Effie Trinket. He'd seen it in her eyes; the mistrust for everyone around her and that vacant, blank look that told what she'd gone through.

"She could have said anything against us, we just don't know. We have to make an example," Coin started again, it was the same argument every time but she just switched the words around. Haymitch was getting annoyed. There was no sense in making an example out of Effie; she'd been sat in that cell probably since the day he and Plutarch had left on that hovercraft. It would be a surprise if the fickle citizens of the Capitol even remembered who she was.

Part of Haymitch's sober brain was asking why he was even fighting this hard for the woman. Over the years they had been thrown together, she had consistantly been the most annoying person he'd had the misfortune to meet. Effie was a constant thorn in his side; a fun sucking vacuum that stood around with a schedule, telling him what to do, not to drink that, that his manners were horrific. Haymitch had rarely listened, thrown her insults, pushed her away at every chance. Haymitch was always doing his damned best to make everything ten times more difficult for Effie. She complained, told him how things should be done, what the schedule said they should be doing, taking his bottles of alcohol away.

Putting all the petty reasons Haymitch could think of, he knew really she was innocent, of everything Coin was accusing her of, anyway. Somewhere, somehow, he knew he liked her. Like liked her. As if he was some kid in the playground, too shy to say anything, and it pained him. Haymitch had done so well to keep everyone away for so long. But Effie was a force to reckoned with. She wormed her way in, found a way to be likable, despite the fact she annoyed him to no end.

Haymitch listened to Plutarch arguing with the stubborn woman, once again. Effie deserved to have better people fighting for her, not two people that had left her behind. "Katniss would trust her," Haymitch said suddenly. The whole parachute-bomb-calamity was still fresh; Katniss was burnt and was having some weird surgery done to regrow skin. It was nothing Haymitch had ever heard of before, but apparently Katniss was doing well with it. Haymitch knew playing Mockingjay card would have to make Coin reconsider, at the very least. She needed the Mockingjay on her side still.

Coin shot Haymitch a scathing look; no one said anything for a moment. Plutarch looked like he was caught between two warring parents that were at a stand-off. Haymitch stared right back at the woman, offering a cocky, half smile. "I'll reconsider it. After Snow's execution we'll reconvene and... assess the damages."

* * *

**A/N  
I guess I intended to make this multichapter, get some fluff or something in there. But I'm lazy and I hate words. We'll see. **


End file.
